


Episode 7: It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

by inkandpaperqwerty



Series: Bright Smiles and Bloody Lips [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel Does Not Get The References, Castiel Does Not Understand Humans, Castiel Follows Orders, Castiel is Not Innocent, Conflicted Castiel, Dean Winchester Tries, Demon Blood, Episode: s04e07 It's the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Halloween, Liam Does Not Like Castiel, Liam Does Not Trust Castiel, Manipulative Castiel, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Musical References, POV Castiel, Parental Dean Winchester, Parental Sam Winchester, Past Child Abuse, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Single Parent Sam Winchester, Soldier Castiel, Stalker Castiel, Uncle Dean Winchester, Universe Alteration, Vodka Uncle Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperqwerty/pseuds/inkandpaperqwerty
Summary: "Dean expected Sam to find a way to cope after he was dragged to Hell. By no means did he, even for a moment, think Sam might look to parenting as a coping mechanism."Castiel's mission is turning out to be more difficult than Heaven originally thought, and they're running out of time to put Sam and Dean at odds. Castiel tries to observe the brothers and their tagalong as much as possible, but what he's finding is helpful in all the worst ways. He's not fond of the orders he knows are coming, but that won't stop him from following them.Besides, the boy has a mouth on him, and he could stand to be taught a thing or two about respect.





	Episode 7: It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

Castiel was an obedient soldier. He always had been. If orders came down the chain of command, he would follow them, even if he didn’t like them. Even if it meant destroying Clayton, Indiana. Even if it meant killing Liam. It wouldn’t be the first time he killed a child—especially if Clayton burned—nor would it be the last, and knowing the potential victim didn’t change that.

But standing in the lively motel room, concealed from human perception, watching Dean teach Liam how to perform a so-called Time Warp, Castiel secretly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“It’s just a jump to the left.” Dean and Liam did so, continuing to sing along with the musical instructions. “And then a step to the ri-ii-iiight! Put your hands on your hips, and bring your knees in tiiiight!”

Sam threw his head back and laughed, holding his phone level so he could record footage of the two dancing and singing like fools. He didn’t seem to be mocking them, though—simply taking his own joy from witnessing theirs.

“But it’s the pelvic thruuust, that really drives you insa-aa-aaane! Leeet’s do the Time Warp agaaaiiin! Leeet’s do the Time Warp agaaaiiin!”

Liam almost fell over trying to keep up with Dean’s obviously practiced singing and dancing, tripping all over himself because he was laughing too hard to see straight.

Dean dropped to one knee and started moving his hands as if he were playing a stringed instrument, except there was no instrument to speak of. “Well, I was walking down the street, just a-havin’ a think, when a snake of a guy gave me an evil wink!” Dean started to, uh, ‘shimmy,’ if Castiel was recalling the proper term, and his voice was unusually high. “Well, it shook me up; it took me by surprise. He had a pick-up truck, and the Devil’s eyes!” Dean pointed at his eyes and then put his hands to his chest. “He looked at me, and I felt a change—time meant _nothing,_ never would again!”

Liam was struggling to catch his breath, and he let out a squeal when Dean scooped him up and returned to the dance.

“It’s just a jump to the left!” Dean jumped in the indicated direction with Liam in his arms. “And then a step to the ri-ii-iiight—” Liam was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his cheeks, and Sam could barely hold his phone up, “—you put your hands on your hips, and bring your knees in tiiiight!” Dean couldn’t really put his hands on his hips with Liam in his arms, but he made up for his lack of action during the next line. “But it’s the pelvic thruuust, that really drives you insa-aa-aaane!” He started spinning clockwise. “Leeet’s do the Time Warp agaaaiiin!” He came to a stop and whirled in the opposite direction. “Leeet’s do the Time Warp agaaaiiin!” He continued spinning and flopped backward onto the nearby bed, Liam falling on top of him, all three of the room’s occupants overcome with laughter.

Castiel realized too late that he had started to smile as well.

_No. No, this is my mission. I have to remain objective._

Castiel disappeared from the room, tilting his head back to stare at the night sky. Tomorrow, the Winchesters would enter Clayton to investigate a suspicious death. Halloween was just around the corner, and a seal was under fire. If all went according to plan, the seal would break, Sam Winchester would drink demon blood to gain the upper hand in the fight against Samhain, and the brothers would push each other away again.

If all went not-so-according to plan…

No. Castiel wasn’t going to think about that. Why entice doubt? Why question orders he didn’t even have yet? He didn’t know if it would come to that. It probably wouldn’t. It hopefully wouldn’t. No point wasting energy thinking about it if it wasn’t going to happen.

Castiel heaved a sigh and disappeared again, returning to Heaven to do a final check of the arrangements. Briefly, between departure and arrival, Castiel had a thought.

_I hope they know they cannot actually manipulate time with dancing rituals._

* * *

“Here.” Castiel pressed his hand to the wall and pulled out the hex bag without damaging the plaster, trying to leave the motel room relatively undisturbed. Humans were so particular about their dwellings, after all. “This is what we sensed.”

Uriel concealed his angel blade and stalked over to the nearby window. “Unfortunate. I was hoping we might get to skewer an abomination or two before we had to talk to one.” He sighed and folded his hands behind his back, clearly displeased with the lodging. “This place is a mudhole. Fit for monkeys, but _I_ would rather not stay any longer than I have to.”

Castiel turned his head to look over his shoulder, tucking his own blade into his jacket and resisting the faint urge to sigh. “You’re in one of their vessels. Their filth shouldn’t bother you.”

Uriel opened his mouth to respond, but they were both distracted by a sudden movement near the front door. Castiel zeroed in on a small figure twisting the deadbolt and immediately recognized the small figure as Liam.

Castiel cleared his throat, and Liam startled, whirling around and pressing his back against the door. They stared at each other for a moment, but it quickly became apparent Liam would not be the one to initiate conversation.

“Where is Dean?” Or Sam, but Castiel didn’t want to spend any more time around the abomination than he needed to.

Liam pressed himself against the door a little harder, but despite his apparent fear, he narrowed his eyes and huffed. “I dunno.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “You’re lying to me.”

“Maybe.” Liam slowly put his hand on the doorknob, watching Castiel cautiously as he started to twist it. “Why do you want Dean?”

Castiel appeared next to Liam and picked him up, easily pulling him away from the door. “Don’t try to leave when I’m talking to you.”

Liam immediately started to kick and squirm, twisting around in Castiel’s arms. “Let me go! Let me _go,_ Castiel!”

Castiel sighed and made his way across the room to the bed, sitting down and holding Liam on his lap. “Please don’t.” He tilted his head back slightly when Liam tried to strike him in the chin, knowing it would do significant damage to Liam’s hand if contact was made. “This is very unnecessary.”

“I—don’t— _like_ —you!” Liam punctuated every word with a kick, arching his back. “Let go of me!”

Castiel opened his mouth to try and reason with the small human, but he was cut off by a shrieking sound that rivaled the true voice of an angel.

“Saaaaaaaam!”

It hurt his vessel’s eardrums.

“Sam, help! Saaam!”

“Is it dying?” Uriel asked, arching a brow in mild interest.

Castiel sighed. “I don’t think so. I think it’s an indicator of dissatisfaction.” He grunted, trying to hold Liam and keep the boy from breaking his knuckles on Castiel’s jaw at the same time. “It would be extremely helpful if you put him to sleep, seeing as my hands are otherwise occupied.”

_“Saaaaaaaam!”_

Uriel smirked a little, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. “Come now, Castiel. You’re one of Heaven’s finest. You pulled a soul out of Hell. Surely, you can handle a baby monkey.”

Castiel’s face twisted into a scowl. “I don’t want to hurt—”

Castiel didn’t get to finish his sentence, the door flying open with a bang.

“Put him down, or I blow your brains out. Now!” Sam Winchester—whom Castiel could literally _feel_ the darkness in—shouted, leveling a gun at Castiel’s head.

“Sam, wait!” Dean rushed in with a shout of his own. “That’s Castiel!”

Castiel fixed his eyes on Sam and slowly stood up. _You don’t scare me, boy._ But Castiel unwound his arms nonetheless, carefully placing Liam back on his feet.

Liam bolted.

Sam tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants and crouched down to grab Liam. He scooped Liam into his arms and straightened back up, maintaining eye contact with Castiel the entire time. “It’s okay, Liam.” Sam narrowed his eyes at the angels. “They won’t hurt you. They aren’t—bad.”

Castiel didn’t miss the hesitation; ironic, considering who—no, _what_ Sam Winchester really was. Sam seemed to miss that irony, holding Liam tight and angling his body to shield the boy from any potential attacks.

Liam sniffled quietly but seemed significantly calmer, arms wound around Sam’s neck and legs wrapped around Sam’s waist. He rested his head on Sam’s shoulder and watched Castiel with suspicious eyes.

Castiel kept his focus on Sam, locking onto those angry, hazel eyes for a full five seconds before turning his attention to Dean. “I was unaware you had a child.” That was a lie, of course, but they couldn’t know Castiel had been following them. “I assumed he belonged to Bobby Singer.”

Dean stared back at Castiel, slightly wary. “Yeah. He’s ours.”

 _False._ “Which one of you is the father?” He wondered how truthful Dean would be, and some of that curiosity slipped into his tone.

He was getting too familiar with his vessel.

“Both. Neither.” Dean ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. “He’s adopted. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

 _Adopted?_ Castiel tilted his head slightly. _Don’t they have institutions for orphans?_

“Enough of this.” Uriel barely glanced away from the window as he growled out the words. “We’re wasting our time with these mud monkeys.”

Dean immediately drew himself up to his full height and put his focus on Uriel. “Yeah, who are you, and why should I care?”

Castiel intervened immediately, hoping to limit the interaction between Uriel and the Winchesters—especially Dean—as much as possible. “The Rising of Samhain, have you stopped it?”

“Why?” Dean shot back, never fully taking his eyes off the angel at the window.

“Dean, have you located the witch?” Castiel tried not to let his exasperation show.

Dean didn’t try at all, openly rolling his eyes. “Yes, we’ve located the witch.”

Castiel wasn’t impressed, and he knew Uriel wasn’t either. “And is the witch dead?”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, equally displeased. “No, but we know who she is.”

Castiel reached into his pocket and withdrew the hex bag he had retrieved earlier, fingers brushing against a folded piece of paper in his pocket. “Apparently, she knows who you are, too.” He handed the bag to Dean. “This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or both of you would be dead.” Then, because it was more likely to get the result he wanted, he added, “It could have killed Liam while you were away.”

Dean stopped at that, and Sam seemed to turn away a little more, his grip on Liam tightening.

“Do you know where the witch is now?” Castiel left no room for debate in his voice.

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment, and it was enough of a hesitation for Castiel to get his answer, but Dean wasn’t willing to admit defeat just yet. “What do you care, anyway?”

“The Rising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals,” Castiel explained.

Dean snorted as understanding crossed his features, bitterness twisting his voice. “So, this is about your buddy, Lucifer.”

“Lucifer is no friend of ours,” Uriel rumbled from the window, still facing the pane.

“Yeah, it’s a figure of speech, Chuckles.” Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but he stopped short and put his attention back on Liam. “Hey, what’s with that face?”

Castiel frowned slightly and took a step forward, trying to draw Dean’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Dean, you need to focus.”

Dean thoroughly ignored him, wearing a warm expression Castiel had never seen on Dean’s face before. “Lee, tell me what’s wrong. Or tell Sammy.”

Liam kept himself pressed tightly against Sam, and he looked at Castiel with a brief, worried, and yet still subtly angry expression. He wet his lips, eyes wandering back to Dean, and he started to speak. “It wasn’t a ‘she.’ It was a man.” He pointed vaguely toward the far end of the room, keeping his arm tucked in close. “I was in the bathroom, and I thought it was Sorzie at first, ‘cause his hair was kinda long, and he was tall, but he wasn’t tall _enough,_ and—” he tapped his fingers against Sam’s shirt, “—he didn’t have checkies or Sorzie’s jacket. So, I hid in the bathroom until he left, and I relocked the door when he was gone. Then I went back to the bathroom to hide.”

 _Which is why we didn’t see you when we first arrived._ Castiel glanced at Dean, waiting to see what his reaction would be. _Sorzie?_ No, he had to pay attention.

“Tall with hair like mine?” Sam echoed thoughtfully.

“And he placed the hex bag recently,” Dean murmured.

They looked at each other and spoke in unison. “Don.”

Castiel glanced at Uriel, but it seemed Uriel had given up on any kind of interaction and was completely devoted to staring out the window. _You’re only here to accomplish the bottom line, anyway._ But Castiel warded that thought to keep it private. No need to start drama in the garrison.

“So,” Castiel blinked at the trio of humans, expressing mild irritation. “Do you know who the witch is _now_?”

Dean gave him a withering glare. “Yes, and we can handle it.”

“You’ve run out of time to handle it.” Castiel glanced at Sam and Liam before looking at Dean again. “You need to leave town. All of you.”

Sam frowned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed so he could put Liam in his lap. “Why?”

Castiel continue to stare at Dean. “The Rising of Samhain must be stopped. There can be no room for mistakes.” He looked at Sam, speaking poignantly. “Lucifer _cannot_ be released from the Cage.”

“Cool.” Dean nodded, bearing his usual attitude of nonchalance. “So, help us gank the witch, and we can all go home happy.”

 _If only,_ Castiel thought a bit bitterly. “Uriel and I will handle the problem. You and Sam take Liam and leave town.”

Castiel should have known Dean would never accept that as an answer.

“Uh-huh.” Dean put his hands on his hips, taking a step forward. “And, uh, how exactly are you going to _handle_ it?”

“Uriel is… a specialist.” Castiel let that hang for a moment, but the silence forced him to finish. “We’re going to destroy the town.” He felt Uriel’s essence bemoaning his lack of tact.

It took a half a second for the words to process, and then Dean’s eyes went wide before promptly narrowing. “Woah, wait, what? I don’t think so.”

Sam shifted his hold on Liam, turning to face the angels a little more. “There’s gotta be at least a thousand people here,” he exclaimed, seeming even more disturbed than his brother.

“1,214,” Uriel supplied.

“And you’re just gonna blow it up?” Dean questioned, arms folded over his chest—Castiel had learned that was a common stance taken by humans when defensive. Defensive Dean was never good.

“Lucifer _cannot_ rise.” Castiel glanced at Sam briefly but kept most of his attention on Dean. “It’s one thousand lives against seven billion.” Not necessarily true. “You have to look at the big picture.”

Sam interrupted, still holding Liam and growing progressively more protective as the conversation continued. “You, of all people, aren’t supposed to be _big picture_ guys.”

Castiel frowned slightly, confused.

“No?” Uriel asked, a taunting lilt to his voice.

“No,” Sam replied, his voice hard. “You’re _angels._ ”

“So, what?” Uriel turned away from the window with a sneer. “We’re supposed to show mercy?”

 _Uriel, don’t. You’re going to make this worse, and not in the way we want._ Castiel projected the thought and opened his mouth to settle the waters, but Sam wasn’t done.

“You’re supposed to be _righteous_.” Sam stood up and put Liam down, letting the boy move behind him as he faced Uriel. “Do you know what would happen if you tried to become a member of law enforcement down here?”

Castiel was caught off-guard by the question—and greatly confused regarding its relevance—but he gave Sam questioning eyes and the silence necessary to continue.

“You would be disqualified. People who think it’s appropriate to sacrifice the lives of the few to save the many don’t get to be in positions of power.” Sam looked at them with some kind of emotion caught between anger and pleading. “People who think they can place a value on human life and barter with it aren’t good. They’re tyrants— _arrogant_ tyrants, and we don’t give them power, because they don’t deserve it.” Something like disgust crossed Sam’s features. “If you want to pretend the only way to move forward is mass murder, fine, but that’s about as far from _righteous_ as you can get.”

“Why, you—” Uriel stepped forward, seething, and it was only an outstretched arm from Castiel that kept him from snapping Sam’s neck on the spot. “Castiel, I will not—”

“Uriel.” Castiel held Sam’s gaze as he spoke, making it clear he wasn’t talking to Uriel. “They’re children. They don’t know any better.”

Sam opened his mouth to object, but Dean stopped him with a gesture similar to the one Castiel had used with Uriel.

“Sam, don’t.” Dean looked right at Castiel, mimicking his technique. “They aren’t worth it. You can’t beat an inflated ego with logic.”

Castiel bristled, but it quickly faded—he _was_ the superior being, after all—and he calmly addressed the two of them. “You don’t have to like it, but the decision is not yours to make. Clayton, Indiana _will_ be destroyed, and you need to leave.”

For a moment, there was silence. Sam watched Dean with fire in his eyes but no words on his lips, like he was waiting for a cue. Dean regarded Uriel and Castiel, and as he stared, his anger slowly melted into a smirk.

_That’s not good._

“How about a change of plans?” Dean shrugged and spread his arms slightly. “How about we refuse to leave?”

Uriel replied before Castiel could. “We’ll destroy you, too.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Dean stalked a little closer, presenting a kind of confidence he hadn’t had in Bobby Singer’s kitchen. “Someone ordered you to get me out of Hell, and I’m thinking Heaven doesn’t have a raffle for that kind of thing, so _somebody_ important wants me alive. I don’t think your superiors are gonna let you kill the guy you worked so hard to get in the first place.” He planted his hands on his hips, stance wide, shoulders squared.

Arrogant.

“We will drag you out,” Uriel growled.

“Sure, but you’ll have to kill me to do that, which puts us back at square one.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, nonplussed. “If you do manage to get me out alive, I’ll just drive back in.”

Uriel moved closer, less than three feet between them. “Heaven might want you alive, but the same can’t be said of your brother or his pet.”

Castiel shut his eyes briefly, gathering his patience in the split second before reactions kicked in. _That was, quite possibly, the worst course of action to take._

“Did you just call him a _pet?_ ” Sam shouted, his voice nearly covered by Dean’s equally enraged, “You think that’s any different?”

Dean was the one who continued, grabbing Uriel by the shirt. “You lay a single _finger_ on either of their heads, and I’ll blow mine off!” He stopped for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled with himself. He exhaled slowly and dropped his arms to his sides, fists clenching as a deadly tone entered his voice. “Don’t you _dare_ touch my fam—”

“Please, don’t hurt me, Mr. Angel!”

Castiel was startled by a sudden pressure in the lower half of his vessel, which he quickly realized wasn’t so much pressure as it was Liam throwing himself against Castiel and cleaving to him.

“Please, _please,_ don’t hurt me!”

Castiel held his hands up and slightly away from Liam, unsure of what to do and taking an instinctive step back as a result. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Castiel wasn’t even the one who suggested it; though, perhaps it was _because_ Castiel was less antagonistic that Liam begged him instead. “Just, uh, stop making that… noise that you’re making.”

Liam looked up at him, blue eyes watering, and then he buried his face in Castiel’s stomach, murmuring frantically under his breath.

“Please, please, please, please, please…” he chanted over and over.

“Liam,” Sam started, slowly approaching Castiel. “Everything’s okay, just come away from him.” He kept his eyes on Castiel, stretching out a hand and beckoning Liam with his fingers. “Come on, buddy, come back to me.”

“That is an excellent plan,” Castiel encouraged, giving Liam a slight shove on the shoulder. “Go back over there. Go on.”

Liam hesitated a moment more, sniffing up at Castiel, and then he bolted. He threw himself at Sam, ducking behind his legs and grabbing his shirt with one hand while the other held out an angel blade.

Wait, what?

“Sorzie, he had this in his jacket.”

Castiel immediately felt around for his sword, but it wasn’t in his sleeve. _Because I had it out but stashed it when I intercepted Liam._ He pat down the front of his coat, but the blade was gone. Liam hadn’t begged Castiel because he was less antagonistic, he begged Castiel because Castiel was the only one who stashed his weapon _after_ Liam came out of the bathroom.

Castiel could hear Uriel’s essence laughing, and he promptly sent out a wavelength that vaguely resembled the English phrase, ‘shut up.’ Outwardly, neither of them moved, their facial expressions unchanged.

Liam handed the blade to Sam, still gripping the plaid flannel for dear life. “They were talking like they came ready for a fight.”

Sam contemplated the weapon with surprise and confusion before slowly lifting his gaze to look at Dean, who stared back with an equal amount of surprise and confusion before slowly turning his gaze to Castiel.

“Huh.” Dean folded his arms over his chest. “How ‘bout that?”

Castiel inwardly cursed his lack of attentiveness—something along the lines of, ‘one hundred years of ill fortune should fall on this thick head of mine’—briefly wondering where someone so young picked up manipulative tactics so advanced.

“Sam.” Castiel extended his hand. “Give me the weapon.”

“This works on you, doesn’t it?” Sam indicated the angel blade. “You know it’ll work on any enemy, because if it can kill you, it can kill anything.”

Castiel narrowed his gaze. “We know it will work because we use our blades on smaller threats. Stronger adversaries, we smite.”

“Then why carry a blade at all?” Dean countered, spreading his hands in an incredulous gesture. “Why not just smite everything?”

“Convenience,” was Castiel’s automatic reply. “It can also be helpful when trying to avoid human detection. Sam,” he shifted his attention, “the blade is of no use to you, but it _is_ the property of Heaven. I would like it back.”

“I don’t believe you.” Sam shook his head. “I think this will be very useful, especially against you guys.”

Castiel didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. “Then you would be wrong.”

Neither did Sam. “Then come and take it from me.”

Castiel inwardly cursed again, wishing quite a few unpleasant things on Sam Winchester as he worked his jaw and tried to figure out how to move forward.

Uriel didn’t look at Castiel, but he called out across the radio wavelengths, asking for orders. Castiel didn’t know what to tell him.

“We aren’t tyrants, Sam.” Castiel looked to the younger Winchester, his voice slightly softer. “For centuries, we left humanity alone. We didn’t choose who lived and who died. We let you have your freedom.” He clenched his jaw again, keeping his anger at the very core of his essence so his vessel wouldn’t show it. “But things are different now. This is something we _cannot_ leave in the hands of humanity. We _have_ to do this. We have no choice.”

Sam didn’t even blink. “You don’t _want_ a choice.”

Castiel looked at Dean, looked at the defensive stance and blazing emerald eyes, and then back at Sam, still sheltering Liam with darkness in his veins and anger on his tongue.

“You have until midnight.” Castiel looked at Dean, taking a step forward, getting in his face like he had when he threatened to throw Dean back in the Pit. “If the witch isn’t dead by then, we _will_ destroy the town. If I have to return to Hell and drag you out again, so be it, but either way… if it isn’t handled by midnight, the town burns.”

Dean opened his mouth to object, but Castiel was already gone.

_This is turning out to be much more difficult than we originally thought._

* * *

“Why don’t you go play, Liam?” was what Dean was saying when Castiel appeared behind the park bench.

Liam shook his head and idly swung his legs, little shoulders hunched and sky blue eyes staring vacantly ahead.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean startled, but Liam seemed unsurprised, remaining silent.

“Freakin’…” Dean turned so he was sitting sideways on the bench. “What do you want, Cas? We did our best. If the seal was that important, you should’ve helped instead of dropping a threat and flying off.”

Castiel considered his options, trying to figure out how to push the brothers further apart without making himself an enemy. He was already on thin ice with Dean, and Dean could be difficult to predict.

“I just wanted you to know… I’m glad the town was spared.” Castiel tried to mimic a little human emotion. “We may have lost the seal, but, thanks to you, I was able to avoid following a… rather unpleasant order.” Hopefully, that would help smooth things over. “How is Sam?”

Dean heaved a sigh, but his anger seemed to dissipate somewhat. “Not great, Cas.”

Castiel glanced at the children on the playground, fighting back the fleeting urge to smile “Perhaps I could help; take some of his pain.”

Dean stopped at that, thoughtful. “Uh…” He shook his head. “No. No, we better not.”

‘I want him to associate drinking demon blood with pain,’ was the bit left unsaid, but Castiel heard it all the same.

“Ask him.”

Castiel and Dean both looked at Liam.

Dean cleared his throat. “That’s okay, Lee. We’ll skip it.”

“Ask. Him.” Liam glared at Dean with glassy eyes, sniffing quietly. “You never ask, you just do what you want.”

Dean leaned down slightly and spoke in a soothing voice. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, Lee. Sam doesn’t need any angelic healing mojo; it’s just a headache, nothing major.” He flashed a quick smile. “Sam is gonna be just fine.”

“No, he’s _not!”_ Liam looked at Dean, frustrated tears rolling halfway down his cheeks before he dashed them away. “Because you never _listen_ to him. You never—” He hiccupped and looked back at the park, wiping his eyes again.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, sliding from the bench and crouching down in front of Liam. “I’ll ask Sam, okay? I’ll give him a call.” He held his hands out in a placating gesture. “And I’ll listen. I promise, Lee.”

Liam seemed mildly appeased, but then he went back to staring with vacant eyes.

Dean looked at Castiel for a moment, suspicion tainting his features. “What happened to ‘stop it, or we will?’” His tone was almost accusatory.

Castiel averted his eyes. “Well, if Heaven never hears of this… incident…” even though it already had, “…they can’t order anyone to intervene.” Kill Sam. “I see no reason to report the details of this conversation.” Because the report had already been made.

Dean considered Castiel for a moment, and then he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Crap.” He looked back at Liam. “I’m gonna walk around a bit and try to get a signal. You _stay here,_ okay?”

Liam nodded, his eyes dropping from the park to his lap.

Dean gave Castiel a pointed look; a silent order not to leave Liam alone.

Castiel nodded his equally silent acceptance, watching as Dean went to the nearby sidewalk and started walking, holding up his phone and watching the screen.

Castiel waited until Dean was out of earshot to comment. “You’re very fond of Sam.”

“I love him.” Liam spoke without hesitation, idly fiddling with his hands.

Castiel didn’t say anything for a moment. “Liam… Sam isn’t who you think he is.”

“That’s okay with me,” was all Liam said, looking back out at the park again.

Castiel pressed his lips together, torn between bewilderment and frustration. “He’s dangerous, Liam. He’s going to hurt you.”

Liam actually stopped for a moment, fingers freezing in their intertwined position as his eyes misted up, but then he nodded with a quiet sniff. “Yeah, I know.”

Castiel arched a brow, definitely bewildered. “You… know?”

Liam wiped his face with his sleeves and got back to fiddling. “Everyone does eventually.” He smiled a little, some of his usual light going back into his eyes. “But until then, I’m just happy he loves me. Everyone pretends to be someone they’re not, but Sorzie pretends to be somebody really, really nice.” His expression soured then. “Unlike _you_.”

Castiel wasn’t entirely sure how to take the statements about Sam, so he cleared his throat and moved the conversation to a new topic. “I see you haven’t taken my advice.”

Liam didn’t so much as glance in Castiel’s direction. “Don’t give bad advice,” he suggested.

Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly, indignation flaring in his chest at the sheer _nerve_ of the child in front of him. “You sound quite sure of yourself.” He glanced in Dean’s direction, but the older Winchester was still a fair distance away. “I could kill you with a snap of my fingers.” He paused to let that sink in. “I won’t, but another angel might if you don’t get that tongue of yours in check.”

“So?” Liam leaned back against the bench, swinging his legs again.

Castiel bristled. “ _So,_ you should show a little respect to those who can easily end your life.”

Liam swung his legs again. “So… everyone.” He turned sideways and folded his arms atop the back of the bench, looking at Castiel with eyes far too tired for his age. “You don’t scare me, _Nastiel_. You’re just like my mom, and my dad, and Mrs. Highland, and Mr. Mallery, and every other grownup who makes me do whatever they want.” He glared. “You think you’re special or something? You’re just another angry man in a suit and tie telling me it’s best if I do what you tell me to.”

Castiel was struck momentarily speechless, watching silently as Liam turned around and slumped on the bench with a heavy sigh.

“You—”

“Hey, Sam said he’d like a fix-it for his headache. You still game?”

Castiel blinked, lost in yet another kind of confusion. “I don’t—”

“Are you still willing to help?” Dean sighed.

“Oh. Yes.” What that had to do with playing games, Castiel didn’t know, but as long as Dean was satisfied, he supposed it really didn’t matter. “He’s in your motel room?”

Dean nodded his head and gestured toward the nearby building. “Yeah. We’ll come with you.” He held out his hand for Liam to take, and despite Liam’s earlier frustration, he didn’t hesitate to latch onto Dean’s entire arm.

 _It’s oddly complex._ Castiel started to walk, feeling a little odd using his feet to move from one place to another. _With Sam, Liam seems perpetually positive. With Dean, he seems quick to argue, as he is with me, but he is still pleased to be around Dean overall. With me, he’s perpetually negative. He didn’t speak much with Uriel, but I would imagine their relationship would be similar._ Castiel continued to walk without really paying attention, ensuring his footsteps were aligned with Dean’s so Dean could lead the way while Castiel lost himself in thought. _He has parents, yet he’s been adopted. What would be the purpose of adopting a child who already has parents? Furthermore, what inspired them to adopt him?_ He would have to talk to the other angels and see if anyone saw when exactly Liam was adopted, seeing as Castiel hadn’t exactly been ‘hip’ to things occurring topside while he was in Hell retrieving Dean.

“Sorzie?” Liam called softly, slipping under Dean’s arm and through the recently opened door. “We’re back.”

Castiel followed Dean into the motel room, surprised to see Sam on his feet and wrestling a clean shirt down over his head.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked.

Sam gave him a weak smile, and Castiel could see his eyes were unfocused in their attempt to find Dean’s face. “Not great. Uh, but—” he held up a finger and pulled some papers from his back pocket, “—Liam, come look.”

Liam immediately moved closer, getting up on his tiptoes and scanning the papers with a crinkled brow. “What is it?”

“This,” Sam started, kneeling down to be on Liam’s level, “is a Halloween scavenger hunt. I know we couldn’t get you a costume and go trick-or-treating, but we can still do this, if you want. We can start tonight in Clayton, and maybe make some stops along the way back to Bobby’s. We’ll have our very own Halloween adventure.” Sam flashed another smile, but Castiel could sense the nausea and blinding pain.

“Sam, maybe let Cas look at your head first,” Dean suggested, a faint smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Castiel decided that was enough of a cue and wasted no time in pressing two fingers to Sam’s forehead. “Your migraine is gone, and your nose shouldn’t bleed anymore.”

Sam stared at Castiel with a blank expression for a moment, no doubt still angry over their last encounter, but then he offered a small smile. “Thank you.”

Castiel stared back, and then he made himself invisible, appearing to the humans in the room to have flown away.

There was a moment of silence and then Sam cleared his throat, looking back at Liam. “So, what do you say?”

Liam chewed on his lower lip, the skin showing through the gap in his two front teeth. “Are you sure you feel better?”

Sam smiled and nodded his head, pulling Liam into a side-hug. “Castiel fixed me up, buddy. I feel much better.” He smiled a little wider. “Thank you for asking. That was very thoughtful, Liam.”

Liam beamed at the praise and then glanced at Dean, still smiling as his gaze went back to Sam, then to Dean, and then back to Sam again. “We can all go together?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Sam smiled warmly. “It wouldn’t be an adventure without Dean.”

Dean had a similar curve to his lips. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Liam made an excited little noise—almost like a hum and a laugh combined—and bounced on his toes. “Yes, please!”

Castiel almost sighed; briefly, he wondered if he had been in his vessel too long. _It looks like I’ll have to tag along if I want to determine the impact of the fight with Samhain._ Thankfully, human time went quickly. Besides, the Winchesters were… _interesting_ , to say the least.

It would be an entertaining mission.

* * *

“Dean, I’m sure _someone_ has a dead guy in their tree. You don’t—”

“Too late, Sammy. It’s personal now. Besides, I’m almost there.”

“You’re going to fall and break your neck; then you’ll really be a dead guy.”

“It’s called _method acting,_ you uncultured sw—oah!”

Castiel tensed when Dean lost his grip, but Dean quickly regained control and continued to situate himself amongst the skeletal limbs of the tree. Sam and Liam looked on, the latter giggling periodically as Dean made noises or mumbled to himself.

“Okay! I have been skewered by a branch, and I am officially a dead guy in a tree. Take a picture, Liam!”

* * *

“You know, Sam, it’s kinda weird that clowns aren’t anywhere on this list. Clowns are pretty Halloween-y, don’t you think?”

Castiel stepped back and maneuvered around Sam’s suddenly tense figure, trying to get a better look at his face.

Sam was pale. “Uh…”

“I don’t wanna look for clowns, Dee! I don’t like them.” Liam turned wide, pleading eyes to the older Winchester. “Do we have to add them to the list?”

Dean waved it off. “Nah. It was just a joke. Sammy doesn’t like them either.”

“Oh.” Liam blinked a few times and nodded. “Okay.” He smiled and got back to reading the list. “Can we go find a pumpkin patch?”

Castiel flew back to Heaven.

* * *

“Haven’t you got poet or something like that?”

Castiel quirked a brow, confused by Liam’s request. From the look of things, Sam and Dean were equally confused, but the waitress immediately laughed and started singing her reply.

“No, you see, the trouble with poet is how do you know it’s deceased? Try the priest!”

Castiel’s eyes widened, and he walked closer to the booth, looking at the slices of pie on the table but finding none of them contained human flesh. _I don’t understand._

“Heavenly!” Liam started giggling.

Tracey—Castiel was pretty sure that was her name—laughed as well. “It’s not every day I get to sing Sweeney Todd at work. You made my night, kiddo. Pie’s on me.”

Liam blushed a bit and ducked his head, but he still smiled. “I’m glad I made your night.” He lifted his head. “Thank you for the pie!”

“Sure thing, sweetie. Y’all have a nice night.” Tracey started back toward the counter, tossing a wave and a smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

Liam waved back and contently began eating his pie.

Dean looked at Sam, baffled. “What just happened?”

Sam shook his head, equally perplexed. “I have no idea.”

 _Well, at least it isn’t just me this time,_ Castiel thought.

* * *

“Sam, we need to talk.”

“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

Castiel appeared in the room—concealed from their sight, as always—just as Sam let out a nervous chuckle. Liam was asleep in the bed against the far wall, Sam sat at the tiny table in the kitchen, and Dean leaned against the counter with a beer in his hand.

“I, uh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I realized recently that, uh, that we haven’t really talked about… well, _you_ … since I got back from Hell.”

Sam immediately tensed, his back straightening up. “Uh, well—”

“After our fight, I was really… I didn’t want to risk losing my temper. I was worried about Liam, so I didn’t really…” Dean cleared his throat and took a swig of beer. “I guess the demon blood got me thinking… you know, reasons why you would even…” He cleared his throat again. “I just… realized I never asked how you were. When I got back, I mean, I…” He took another swig of beer and shook his head. “How were you while I was gone?”

“Dead. You were dead, not gone.” Sam immediately regretted the outburst and swallowed whatever else he might have been planning to say. “But, uh, you’re back now, so…” He shrugged.

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment, and if Castiel’s observations up to that point were anything to go on, Dean was struggling with the overwhelming urge to drop the subject. It wasn’t like Dean to pursue emotional conversation.

“Uh, maybe it’s better now, but…” Dean laughed softly. “I mean, I know I’m a pain, but didn’t you miss me at all?” He said it jokingly, but there was a tiny bit of accusation in the tone, like he was goading Sam.

“Dean…” Sam let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Look, it doesn’t… matter anymore. Of course I missed you, but… I don’t miss you now, and…” He looked at Dean for a moment, sighed again, and turned his head to look out the window. “You don’t need to know. Just—”

“I want to know.” Dean drummed his fingers on the counter. “I wanna know how you were. I, uh, I couldn’t last a week. You made it four months, and I—”

“I didn’t make it four months. I didn’t have a _choice._ ” Sam set his jaw, still looking out the window. “You don’t want to know, Dean. You think you do, but you—”

“Then I’m making a mistake, and I’ll deal with the fallout.” Dean was unwavering. “Come on.” He set his beer bottle aside and approached the table, sitting down across from Sam and resting his folded arms on the tabletop. “Just tell me.”

Sam snorted. “Why? What good is it going to do?” His voice started to get louder, and he quickly dragged it back down, speaking in a harsh whisper. “What could possibly be gained by you knowing I summoned over fifty crossroads demons trying to trade my soul for yours?”

Dean flinched at the confession, but he didn’t back off. He took a moment to collect himself and then replied, “You need to talk about it, and maybe… maybe I need to hear it. Maybe I need to know what I did.”

“You—” Sam put his face in his hands and let out a cross between a moan and a sigh. “You didn’t—”

“Yeah, I did, and you blame me. I might not be a psychology buff like you, but I know when my brother’s mad at me.” Dean leaned forward again, regaining some of his confidence. “I know when he’s angry and feels like he shouldn’t be. I know his eyes.” He snorted out a laugh. “Come on, Sam. I don’t remember my time in Hell, and it’s still got me on edge. You remember those four months, so don’t… ‘it doesn’t matter anymore’ me.”

Sam heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. “I…” He sighed again. “I don’t remember that much. I was pretty drunk most of the time.”

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line, and Castiel could sense the pain Sam’s words once again inflicted. Yet Dean didn’t seem angry with Sam. He seemed… lost. Confused. Upset.

“Ruby found me in a ditch, blackout drunk. She got me sober, got me back into hunting, and then said about…” Sam made a vague gesture to fill the gap. “Uh, I found Liam on a hunt, and after Liam, it got better. I think I just needed a distraction.”

Castiel could sense the lies woven throughout Sam’s story, but he had noticed a few large lies in Dean’s account, as well. Namely, Dean claiming he didn’t remember Hell. So, they were still lying to each other.

 _That’s good, at least. But we’ve got to do something about their lack of anger. We have to put them at odds, and we have to get Sam back on demon blood. It doesn’t look like the Samhain incident achieved a relapse._ Castiel closed his eyes, a vague sense of sadness weighing on his vessel’s shoulders. _Sam initially turned to blood to get revenge… but his first instinct was to trade his soul to rescue Dean. So, rescue is a more powerful motivator than revenge for him._

Castiel turned to look at Liam, who was still curled up in bed. He knew it wouldn’t be his call, and he could still hold out hope, but… he knew. He knew what orders would come down the chain of command as soon as he reported back to Heaven.

Castiel glanced at the brothers, who were still talking in the dim light of the kitchen lamp. Briefly, Castiel wondered if they knew Liam had been awake for fifteen minutes.

Either way, it wasn’t Castiel’s concern, so he returned to Heaven and cast aside his concerns about the outcome. After all, they were at war. Suffering was a necessary byproduct, and collateral damage was unavoidable.

If orders came down the chain of command, he would follow them, even if he didn’t like them. Even if it meant hurting Liam.

Because Castiel was an obedient soldier.

He always had been.

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel might seem cold with Liam, but Castiel was last on Earth when children were essentially property, and I'm not talking about Biblical times. Children didn't have rights in America until the 70s. The founder of the ASPCA had to help someone take the first case of child abuse to court because no one else would. Animals had rights in America before children did, and in most countries today, children still don't have rights. Castiel will get better with time, but right now, he's working with a frame of reference that doesn't really see children as people.
> 
> This will be discussed by Sam in later chapters, but until then, I didn't want to leave you confused.


End file.
